


The Angel and the Spider

by Goldenfire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Medical Procedures, Needles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Syringe, Taking Blood, spider - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:01:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8060980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldenfire/pseuds/Goldenfire
Summary: Widowmaker makes a mistake, and pays for it. Who is there for her when Talon casts her off for her failure?





	1. Chapter 1

Amélie stumbled out of the old warehouse, rifle drooping in her fingers. Blood seeped out of a stab wound in her side, under her palm. A stream of blood dripped from under her shattered visor, and she wobbled, took a few steps, and fell flat on her face in the middle of the street. Her consciousness slid from her as she heard footsteps, a soft gasp, and someone chattering on in Swiss. She slipped into blackness.

-

Her eyes - eyes? Eye. One eye. She could only open one eye. She opened that eye onto a hospital room, sunlight streaming through the window to her left. She felt numb, and sluggish, her mind blurry and tongue heavy with what felt like a drugged sleep. Swallowing dryly, she lifted her right hand to her face, specifically, to feel over her right eye. Covered, bandaged. She didn't feel any pain, but she assumed that was from the IV in her hand, which she felt tugging gently. Letting her hand fall again, every movement something of an effort, she lay there slowly contemplating the poetic justice of her right eye being shattered by the very visor she'd used to attempt to kill Ana all those years ago. After a moment she moved to sit up, and instantly regretted it as her head swam, and the heart rate monitor she was hooked up to actually started to beep at a pace faster than the speed of snail. Nope. She lay back down, staring at the ceiling.

A moment passed, and she looked around slowly, with her one eye. The room was plain, a regular hospital, as far as she could tell. The typical machines. She'd been in hospitals before. Her left hand was wrapped in a cast, and she frowned, frustration at all her injuries piling up.

The door clicked, and glided open slowly, drawing her attention. Standing before her was a startlingly familiar face, one that pulled up old, old memories she wasn't sure she should still have. A face she hadn't seen in detail for a very long time. Angela 'Mercy' Ziegler, smiling slightly, stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Hello, ah... Hello Amélie," she seemed reluctant to call her by name. Angela approached cautiously. "You're awake. That's good."

Silence stretched between them as Amélie stared her down.

Angela cleared her throat. "Right!" Lifting her clipboard, the doctor – in her medical uniform, not her Valkyrie suit – walked swiftly around, her flats making soft sounds against the floor. "It is good you are finally awake. You have been asleep a while, Amélie. I was beginning to worry you would never join the world again," she offered a smile, a bit tight. Amélie knew smiles like that, she was trying to pretend everything was normal. She'd smiled like that in the weeks leading up to Gerard's death.

"So, you've been fairly steady since you arrived. We had to adjust for your different physiology, but once we did that, we found you've been perfectly stable the whole time. You heal well. To be honest, I'm not sure how you're alive, by all rights you shouldn't be able to even live, but you seem to make do just fine-"

"Why am I here?" Amélie cut her off, her voice rough with disuse. A cough pulled from her, her throat dry and unprepared for talking. How long had she been out? She found she couldn't stop coughing, either, and it hurt, her side throbbing every time she did so.

"Ah! Here, slowly..." Angela quickly poured a small amount of water from a jug next to her, and helped her sit up, enough that she could sip the water. Amélie hated every moment of needing help, in any way, but she drank anyway, too thirsty to care very much. The water, warmer than her skin, rolled through her, and soothed the ache in her throat. Her cough slowed and stopped, and Angela settled her back into the bed. "There you are."

Amélie licked her lips, moistening them. "You haven't answered my question. Why am I here?" she asked again, voice stronger.

Angela's smile faltered, and broke. "Because you were hurt. No one could identify you, so you were brought here." Her voice had mellowed out a bit, down from her usual sweet tones to a more serious one.

Amélie frowned, and her brow creased. She turned away from Angela, staring at the details of the wall. "Why am I not dead?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I have done horrible, awful things. Why was I not killed?" Her tone was mocking. This seemed to cause a rather lot of distress for the doctor. She frowned as well, mouth opening slightly, closing, the clipboard clasped between her hands as she watched Amélie.

"Because that is not how the world works. You are still human. You will stand a fair trial once you are healthy enough to attend court."

Amélie looked back to her, just a glance, then closed her eye, sighing softly. "Alright. Fine. I can't exactly leave," frustration was thick in her voice. "So fine. Do what you must."

"... Alright. What... What happened, Amélie? Who did this to you? How did they manage this?"

She shrugged, slightly. "An outside group, separate from Talon. I removed one of their leaders from existence recently. I guess they were a bit more organized than we thought. Even I cannot combat seven men at once without injury, after all." Her voice was smoother now, the roughness worked out of it.

"So you were, what, ambushed?"

"Yes. I was told the safe house was clear. I entered through the top window, and triggered an explosive of sorts, similar to what that trash child that has been in the news uses, some sort of... concussion mine. But movement activated. It shattered the lenses in my visor and rendered it useless."

"Shouldn't it have picked the people up, though? Their heat signatures?"

"They were omnics. They had been in whatever their sleep cycle was. Their temperature lowers beneath sensor range when they are in their rest cycles."

"Oh."

Amélie remained silent after that. Angela cleared her throat, and the sound of papers being flipped came from next to her.

"Right. I'm sorry."

"Are you?" She opened her eye and looked at her, her golden iris still piercing even past the drugs she was still on. Angela stood like a prey animal caught in front of a predator, and quickly moved to check something.

"Yes. I am. I am sorry you were hurt. I don't like to see people in pain. Especially not people I know, even if they have extremely questionable morals," she muttered quietly.  
Amélie smiled, her lip curling up at the side. It was more of a smirk, really, but for her it was the biggest display of positive emotion she could make, in her current state. "You know, I actually do believe you. You and your big heart. No smaller after all the death you've witnessed, /Mercy/."

Perhaps she was being cruel, to the woman who was making sure she lived. She was, actually, there was no perhaps. But seeing Angela tense, and give her a glare, sent a small tingle of satisfaction through her, a faint echo of life, the faintest hint. Getting a reaction from her to something she'd said was good. She made a note to keep doing that as the doctor turned to check her eye, and make sure her bandages didn't need changing with her lips in a tight, thin line. Amélie enjoyed Angela's obvious discomfort through the remaining checks, which she made in silence.

"It is good you haven't changed too much, Amélie, or we would've had to leave you in a rather lot of pain until you regained consciousness. We still had your medical files. Updated, now," Angela informed her, as she clicked her pen shut after making one last note and hanging the clipboard at the end of her bed. "Never have I been more thankful for Gerard's insistence that Overwatch check you over, when-" she cut herself off with a small intake of breath. "It is good we have them. If there is anything you need, press the red call button on your bed." She indicated where it was. Amélie immediately pressed the call button. Angela narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"I would like to know what has been done with my rifle."

"It was confiscated as police evidence, which was apparently justified, since you just admitted to killing seven people."

"It was self-defense," Amélie felt her lips curl up into another smirk.

Angela sighed heavily, and turned. "If there is any reasonable request you have, press the red button."

"Yes ma'am," she teased. Angela opened and closed the door with a bit more force than absolutely necessary, leaving Amélie in silence once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short, sorry. It's been a certain kind of torture sitting on such a short chapter for a week.

Angela took a seat at the table, thanking the waiter softly and immediately slumping forward in the booth she was at, leaning on the table. She lay there for a while, in silence, thinking about the first day with a conscious Widowmaker and how it had gone. A soft, amused chuckle made her sit up suddenly, the woman she was here to speak with smiling down at her.

"Fareeha," Angela let out a soft breath, relaxing at the sight of the woman. "I am so glad you could make it. I need a stiff drink and some conversation that doesn't revolve around a certain blue woman." She stood, and the two embraced a moment, Fareeha's strong arms a bastion of warmth and friendship.

"Of course I could, Angela. You may be my doctor, but you are also my friend. Before I tell you what Hana tried to pull today, though, I take it she's finally awake?" The two stepped apart and sat back down. Angela nodded, picking up the menu she'd been left with.

"Yes. That is really all I can tell you. She's awake now, and as full of... snark as she ever was."

"That's good, actually. If she's still a fucking asshole then she'll definitely survive long enough to be sentenced to death."

"Fareeha Amari!"

"What? We both know she's not exactly going to live, even if she is only put in jail," she sat back, shrugging, clasping her prosthetic hands in front of her on the table. Angela leaned back, crossing her arms and glaring with a pout.

Fareeha leaned forward, her expression serious. "Are you telling me you think someone won't try to kill her? Once the public knows what she has done, given the amount of proof she constantly leaves behind at every attack, someone is going to try and have her killed."

"Someone already did try that, and failed. That's why she is where she is right now, not that I should even be telling you this or defending her in any way!" A soft huff escaped her, and she turned her gaze to the ceiling, head falling back against the cushioned booth.

Fareeha watched her a moment longer, in silence, until a waitress came to their table, breaking the tension with a simple, "Hello, my name is Sarah, I will be your server for today. What can I get you?" All in German, of course. Angela sat up from her huff, Fareeha giving her a questioning glance, instantly lost.

"You'd think you'd have learned some German in our time knowing each other. What do you want to eat?" she asked her, smiling a little. That earned a faint blush from her, and Fareeha opened the menu, scanning over everything she couldn't read before shrugging.

"Whatever you're having."

Angela ordered, herself a salad and Fareeha a chicken and pasta dish. She knew she wouldn't want a salad, that was for sure. "You're having pasta."

"Are you having pasta?"

"I'm having a salad."

"Oh. That's fine then, thank you." She gave a nod.

Angela passed their menus to the waitress and leaned forward again, with a small smile. "So, different topic of conversation. What did Hana do today?"

Fareeha's whole body seemed to smile, and she grinned, "Alright, so, it was in practice today..."

Angela completely checked out, smiling and nodding a bit, listening to her go on, only really taking in half the information. Her mind was preoccupied by worry, specifically for a certain blue skinned woman who she was suddenly very afraid would be killed before she could even stand trial.

-

Angela headed home later that evening, after a lovely dinner and a decent time letting herself be distracted by Fareeha’s training stories. It had been a long day, and she very much wanted to rest. She could tell the next week was going to be rather stressful. She’d have to make some arrangements soon. It was a good thing she had friends in some very specific places.

She prepared for bed, showering and dressing in her pajama tank top. She looked at herself in the mirror, sighing and rubbing her eyes. It had been another week without her suit. She went to the kitchen, and retrieved a vial of modified biotic nanobots from the fridge. It only took a small roll of the vial between her fingers to get them jumping again. She hated this part.

Taking a medical syringe, she extracted the appropriate amount, and injected them into her inner arm. The feeling wasn’t pain, but a weird tingle, one she knew she’d never adjust to. Shaking her arm out, she put the vial away, and disposed of the syringe, before heading to bed. Another week, she didn’t have to worry about it for another week.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy October everyone! Here's chapter three!

A small spider descended from the ceiling, twirling slowly. A soft breeze from the air conditioner pushed it to the side, and it frantically climbed backup, opting to go down the wall instead.

"Careful, petite araignée," Amélie murmured, watching the tiny acrobat begin its web. "Build it strong and you might just catch many pests."

"Who's catching pests?"

She looked over to the door, blinking a bit as Angela stepped in, a smile gracing her features. "That young spider there. She slipped in somehow, though I think she has chosen a rather poor place for a home. There will be very little food here for her, after all."

"Ah... Yes, I see," Angela followed the small flick of her wrist to the spider, giving a small nod. "Do you... want me to have her moved?"

"No. She will learn or die," Amélie murmured, turning her gaze back to the spider. She was still a bit out of it compared to the day before, not fully recovered from the drugs. Angela nodded, and walked over, setting a small tray down with a pouch on it. She fiddled with the IV feed and everything, taking Amélie's right arm and setting up the pouch to take blood. Amélie focused back in, blinking out of her trance, and snapped to the bag as Angela released her again. The lack of warmth from her touch was what pulled her attention from the spider. Looking from the bag, to the IV, to Angela, she frowned. "What? What is this? Why?"

"A sample. I want to double check some things, see how you react to various biotic stimuli. That way, we can look at a more aggressive healing method for you," Angela replied. "You are a bit, ah... Different. I need to see how different you really are, on a cellular level, before we can try anything besides the most traditional of methods."

Amélie glanced from her tattooed, blue skin to Angela's creamy white, and nodded, letting out a heavy sigh. "Alright, that's fine, I suppose. You must really want to see me out of here as quickly as possible, ange," she pulled a smirk up, looking back to the doctor.

"That's not- Don't twist the meaning of my words, Amélie. I am only trying to do my job."

The flow of blood was predictably slow, given her reduced heartrate. Angela patted her arm a bit. This would take a while.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that, ange," The smirk remained. "You want to see me healed so I may be punished for my crimes."

"No, Amélie..." She crossed her arms, frowning. She wasn't entirely wrong, Amélie knew. Angela was very big about people taking responsibility for what they'd done to others. She remembered as much.

She wasn't far off either. Angela paced around the bed to check the monitors even though she had no need to. Unchanged. Stable. She wanted Amélie to stand trial, yes, and also as soon as possible. But she also wanted her to be judged fairly. She'd been under the thumb of Talon for a very long time, after all, and they'd done who knew what to her.

"You aren't innocent, but you aren't entirely guilty, I think. You didn't willingly run off to join Talon, after all, not initially."

"Aw, Doctor, you care. How sweet," She mocked her still.

Another sigh. "You really are very rude sometimes, Amélie."

"I do not see how that was rude, ange."

"Of course you don't," Angela muttered, and checked the amount of blood drawn. Half a pint, good enough for her purposes. She fiddled again, Amélie averting her eyes as it sent a twinge of phantom memory pain across her body to watch. A shiver rolled down her spine. The IV flowing again as it should, Angela took the bag, and nodded. "Thank you. Is there anything you want before I leave? I can maybe get you it."

"My complete freedom to return home and my rifle back."

"Ah, no."

"Then no, nothing."

"Good. I will let you know what the options are for further procedures once I've had time to see what's what," Angela took the tray and the half pint of blood, and made for the door. "I will be leaving, for a short while, by the way. I have some arrangements to make. A few days. Please don't kill anyone in my absence."

"No promises, ange," Amélie let her head fall back against her pillow, smirking cruelly at her.

One more sigh. "That will do, I suppose. See you in a few days, Amélie."

The door clicked shut, and Amélie was alone but for the spider. She returned her attention to her small companion, trapped together in this place, and wondered when Talon would come get her out of here.


End file.
